


Long, Long, Long

by SittingOnACornflake



Category: The Beatles (Band)
Genre: 1962, A lot of snogging, Fluff, Getting Together, M/M, Mutual Pining, Ringo loves George and tries to hide it, There's some light angst too, but basically it's fluff, i love them both so much, it doesn't get that much smutty, snogging!!!, they share a hotel room and it unrolls from there, what else can I tell you
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-25
Updated: 2020-02-25
Packaged: 2021-02-28 02:35:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,071
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22896568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SittingOnACornflake/pseuds/SittingOnACornflake
Summary: Ringo has been in love with George for a long time now. George doesn't know. George doesn't love him.Or does he?
Relationships: George Harrison/Ringo Starr
Comments: 18
Kudos: 72





	Long, Long, Long

**Author's Note:**

> I got this little idea yesterday and couldn't get it out of my head, so there you go. I hope you'll like it. If you do, feel free to tell me!
> 
> Edit 29/03/20: I fixed some mistakes oops :)

“How old are you, George ?” Ringo asked out of the blue.

It was a Thursday night and they had a gig the very next day. They had spent the day on the road – the four of them. At ten pm, they had finally reached the city where there they had booked a hotel. By then, Paul and John decided they wanted to write a song. George and Ringo were left to share the other room.

Ringo was not alright with it.

George was sprawled on his side of the bed, his hands behind his head. Ringo was lying down in the same fashion. None of them weren’t doing anything. They liked to do that when they were alone, had done it a lot lately. Mostly because Paul and John were becoming even closer than they had been previously – if it were possible. Still, they liked to stay in companionable silence and think. It was always a relief after the numerous hours of bickering they experienced during the travels. They also shared their thoughts, occasionally.

The things they told each other, however, weren’t usually in the style of “how old are you, George”.

“You already know that,” George replied, apparently unfazed.

Of course he knew. They had known each other for years. Ringo just happened to need to hear it one more time.

“How old are you, George?” he repeated.

“I’m nineteen.”

_There. Are you satisfied now?_ George seemed to ask silently as he slightly turned his head towards him, cocking an eyebrow.

Ringo didn't answer his unspoken question.

Of course he wasn’t satisfied. To George, his age had always – since he had joined the band when he was fourteen, anyway – been a touchy subject. Ringo wasn’t there at first, but he knew that, and he cared about the lad even more for it. George always had to prove to John that he belonged with the band, that he wouldn’t slow them in any way. Even Paul, who was only eight months older than him, treated him like a kid sometimes.

Ringo wished he could treat George like a kid. He was the oldest, after all. But he had never considered George as a burden, not at all. From the beginning, he had been impressed by this dark-haired lad who could play the guitar for hours and never complained when his nails were bleeding from it. George never let you down. He was witty. He cared. He could sing too, and God did Ringo love it when George sang.

The problem was that Ringo liked him a wee bit too much. He didn't have the right to like him that way. Not because it was illegal. Because George was too young for him. The fact that George would never, ever reciprocate his feelings could be another reason to try and keep this under control. But Ringo had long ago discovered that it hurt a lot less to focus on George's age than on George's indifference towards him. Age gaps remained through the years. This way, Ringo couldn’t untertain false hopes.

Unaware of his rambling, George stirred and got up.

“Where are you going?” Ringo stammered.

Sometimes, he feared George would read some of his feelings on his face. Even the slightest part of it. He couldn’t help it sometimes. He knew that, when he looked at George, he had this fond expression he didn't have for anybody else, even the multiple girls he'd been dating. He'd seen it on a photograph once – and he had hid it from the lads, in a book he never read.

“Loo,” George said, and Ringo almost sighed in relief. “’ll be right back.”

True to his word, George came back only minutes after leaving.

“Paul and John are high again,” he chuckled. “I went past their door, you should’ve heard the silly lyrics they were making up.”

Ringo could picture it all too well.

“We should do that sometimes,” he blurted out before thinking about it.

“Get high? We already do.”

“Write songs. Could be great. If you want, I mean,” Ringo said, already regretting it.

If only George could say no ... If he agreed, they would spend even more time together. They would be even closer. Ringo wasn’t sure his heart could bear it. He already loved the lad so fucking much. One day it was gonna be all too much and George would find out. He should avoid him, not write songs with him.

“I’d like that,” George said with a sweet smile.

Ringo closed his eyes, trying not to see it. Shouldn’t have done that, he thought as soon as he opened them again. George was taking off his shirt. Entranced, Ringo stared at his chest before slapping himself mentally.

“When’s your birthday?” he croaked out.

“I’m gonna sleep, but you can leave the light on ...” George began before stopping himself when he heard him. “Oh.”

He didn’t answer him. He just took his pants off in silence, hopping a little in the middle of the room because they were so tight. Ringo looked away as best he could. Eventually George succeeded in getting rid of them and lied back on the bed, under the covers this time.

“I’m gonna sleep too, I think,” Ringo finally said when nothing more than George's hair could be seen. The lad wasn’t facing him, making it easier now. He quickly discarded his own clothes.

“Can I turn off the light?” he asked.

No answer.

“Never seen someone falling asleep as fast as you, mate,” he smiled.

George didn't even snort and he turned off the light.

“Good night Georgie.”

He had almost dozed off when, a few minutes later, the sound of George rolling over awoke him up again.

“Richie,” his friend whispered in the dark, his face so close now that he could feel his breath on his cheeks. “Are you asleep?”

Ringo felt himself blush, and oh wasn’t that silly. Carefully, as if he were stirring, he scooted over a little, leaving more space between them.

“No,” he responded in the same fashion.

“Can we talk?”

“That's what we’re doing already.”

“That's my line, Rich, not yours,” George said jokingly, but then he fell silent, not speaking for such a long time that Ringo almost thought he had dozed off. When George sighed, however, he knew he hadn't.

“What’s bothering you, George?”

“You’re becoming just like them,” the other finally whispered.

“I don't understand,” Ringo said, at a loss.

George sighed again. “How old are you, Richie?”

“Twenty-two.”

“See? I thought you didn't care about me being the younger of the band. I thought that you, at least, 'd never use that against me. But now you keep reminding me I'm younger all the time. I thought I ... I thought I could be myself with you, more than with anyone else.”

It nearly broke Ringo's heart.

“George, listen to me,” he immediately said. “George, I don't care about you being younger than the rest of us. It doesn’t make any difference, really. Hell, you're more mature than John most of the time! Asking you about your age was a mistake. I wasn’t thinking. I didn't want you to feel bad, I swear.”

George didn’t answer to all this rambling. Ringo could feel he had stilled next to him, holding his breath. Maybe he hadn’t said enough. So he went on.

“I never considered you as 'the younger lad whom we need to take care of'. Never. Even when we first met two years ago.”

Ringo desperately wanted to add that he had liked him ever since, and that he had had a crush on him right away, and that this crush had slowly evolved into something more, and that he loved him, would always do. Somehow he managed not to.

“I didn’t even shave back then,” George said.

“And do you, now?” Ringo said, trying to lighten the mood, but it was a mistake, seeing George remained silent again. “George, I promise. I consider you as an equal, not as a child or something. I don't know if the four of us can be considered as adults, cause we're messing around all day, but you're definitely in the same submarine as we are. Uh, no. Boat. You’re in the same boat as we are. I keep saying these wrong.”

“I don't know what to say to convince you,” he confessed after waiting a couple of seconds for George to answer.

“Prove it,” George finally breathed out. His voice was decided, although slightly shaking. Ringo hoped he wasn’t crying. This was something he couldn’t handle right now, although he had once or twice before.

“Sure,” he said. “Whatever you want.”

He surely wasn’t going to contradict George in this moment.

“Okay,” George quietly said. He turned on his own bedside lamp and resumed his position next to Ringo.

Ringo snatched a glance at him. George was turned towards him, only inches away. His cheeks were flushed but he wasn’t crying. Relief shot through his veins as he saw that.

“So,” he said carefully. “How do I prove that? Do you want me to call you Sir or something?”

“Not quite,” George said as he punched his arm lightly. The gesture was gentle and Ringo felt a wave of affection for him. George was his usual self again. Calm, funny-and-serious-at-the-same-time George.

“What do you want then?”

“You can't say no,” George warned him, losing some of his composure.

Ringo waved a hand. “Yeah, yeah. I already agreed to do whatever you want. Just say it already.”

He'd do anything to make George feel better. He'd never want him to be sad or angry or uncomfortable. That was precisely the reason why he was hiding his love from him.

“I want you to kiss me.”

Ringo felt his heart stop. He had been looking at the ceiling, but when he heard that his head turned of its own accord towards George, their faces only inches from one another. George's eyes were fixed on his. He didn't look at all like he was joking. Still, Ringo felt the need to make him repeat that, just to be sure.

“You what?”

“I know you're not queer,” George said – and was that regret in his voice? Ringo must be mistaken. “I want you to kiss me because that's not something you'd do if you didn't consider me as your equal.”

George waited patiently but Ringo’s brain wasn’t functioning properly anymore. He tried to pull a sentence together but failed miserably.

“I ... I can’t do that,” he finally stammered, out of breath from not kissing George, which was something he wouldn’t be offered another time, ever. Why the fuck did he just decline it? He wanted it so badly, had wanted it for such a long time, and ...

“Why?”

“Because,” Ringo said as he couldn’t think of a decent answer. He couldn’t reasonably say _it will hurt when it's over_ , could he?

George shuffled a little so that he lied on his back.

“Do you think I’m ugly?”

“No.” That was all Ringo could say without giving everything out.

“Then why?”

“’m not queer, is all,” Ringo grumbled, knowing all too well that it wasn’t the problem. The problem was his freaking feelings for the lad. If he kissed George, it would be real for him. George, on the contrary, wouldn’t feel anything special. He could even find it disgusting, since Ringo _knew_ he wasn’t into men. He didn’t want their kiss to be like that. It had to be real on both sides, or not be at all.

“A kiss won't make you queer, you know. Haven’t you ever kissed a man?” George asked.

“I ... Yes. I have,” Ringo admitted, realising too late that he had contradicted what he had just said.

The two of them let this sink in for a moment.

“So I'm the problem,” George said. He sounded so sad. Ringo wanted to jump out the window, but he couldn’t move. He was stuck in this bed, unable to move.

Eventually, he made up his mind. If it was the last thing he'd do, he'd do it. He raised himself on one elbow and extended his arm towards George.

“George,” he said. “George, look at me.”

George reluctantly turned his eyes toward him. His eyebrows were furrowed. He looked pained.

“Is it really the only way to make you feel better?”

George nodded.

_He's so handsome_ , he thought. _If he could only love me back._

He hovered above George, not quite daring to cross the space between them. He could feel George's breath going out from his half-parted lips.

“Just do it already,” George said in such a low voice that Ringo almost missed it.

But he heard it. And he complied, because he wasn’t able to deny George anything. Especially when it was something he himself wanted.

He closed the gap between them. His lips lingered on George’s for a second, in a light touch that was barely even there. But then, George let out another sigh and it nearly drove him mad. His heart racing, he parted his own lips. He let licked his way into the other's mouth, barely registering what he was doing. He was so happy at the moment. He was kissing George. He was ... But George wasn’t answering his kiss. George's whole body was still under his.

As soon as he realised that, he pulled back and lied back on the bed. _At least I kept my hands off him_ , he thought. _At least I stopped._

He cast him a glance to check he wasn’t weirded out or shocked or anything. Then, slightly out of breath, he said in a voice he hoped was sarcastic:

“Well? Did that convince you or not?”

“It will do for now,” George said, his voice so sad Ringo desperately needed to ask what was wrong.

“Did I hurt you?” he said, trying to focus on that little black spot on the ceiling, right above him. He absentmindedly wondered if it was a spider.

“What? No,” George said. “How could you? You barely even touched me. I understand it, you know. You're not attracted by me. It's alright. Just ... Forget it, yeah? I'm convinced.”

Now _what was that?_

__

_What was that?_

__

__

__

_What had he just said?_

__

But, before he could ask him, George had turned off his light again, leaving them both in the dark.

__

Ringo's thoughts were reeling. He wasn't sure. Maybe he had heard it wrong. Maybe he had gotten it all wrong. Maybe it was a terrible misunderstanding. If there was the slightest chance, however ...

__

He couldn’t live with this doubt, let alone sleep it off.

__

“George,” he said, feeling bolder than he had in his entire life.

__

“Yeah?”

__

“I need to tell you something. Then you can punch me if you want, okay?”

__

“Is it something about my birthdate again?” the other joked in a feeble voice. “I’ll certainly punch you, mate.”

__

Ringo barely heard him. He swallowed and opened his mouth. Now was the time.

__

“I. I like you a lot. You’re my best friend, y'know. But, uh. You're also more than that, to me. I love you. I love you and I promise I won’t bother you with it anymore now that I’ve told you. Please tell me ... George?” Ringo asked the lad. George was rolling under the covers, apparently trying to detangle himself from them. Then, Ringo felt a weigh on his stomach.

__

George.

__

He really was going to punch him, then.

__

Resigned, he closed his eyes and waited for the hit. Instead, though, he was met with the touch of warm lips, the same he had touched earlier. George was kissing him passionately and it startled Ringo so much that all he did was lie there, all his body feeling like jelly under George. The lad's hands reached his head, gripping his hair and pulling it lightly. He bit Ringo's lower lip, making him gasp. George instantly took advantage of it, touching his tongue with his, gently asking for access to his mouth. Ringo moaned, overwhelmed by the feeling of their tongues dancing with one another.

__

All too soon he was out of breath. It seemed to be the same for George, who broke the kiss but didn’t go far. Ringo instinctively grabbed his hips and held him close.

__

“I’ve wanted to do that for so long,” George chuckled, and he leaned his forehead against his.

__

“You did?” Ringo panted back, not quite believing his ears.

__

“I thought you weren’t interested in me. I've been dropping hints, y'know. Didn't you see them?”

__

“I ...,” Ringo began, having a hard time focusing because, just at that moment, George shifted just slightly and it went straight to his crotch. “I thought I was only seeing what I wanted to see. I thought you weren’t ...” he trailed off, forgetting what he wanted to say in the first place.

__

“Gay,” George corrected him. “I’m gay for you. I've been for a long time now.”

__

Slowly, he moved to nibble at his ear. Ringo let out a moan, getting lost in all these new feelings until something occured to him.

__

“So ...” he stammered as George peppered his neck with kisses. “Was this your plan all the while? Did you make everything up?”

__

The kisses stopped.

__

“Of course not,” George said against his skin, and somehow it was even better than kisses. “I got the idea on the way. Thought I'd better kiss you once while I had the chance.”

__

“And ...” Ringo began, but George shushed him.

__

“Could we talk later? I've got business to take care about,” he said in made-up businessman tone that wasn’t even half-convincing.

__

“Business, yeah,” Ringo said as their crotches brushed through their underwears, making them both shiver. “I love you.”

__

“I love you too,” George said, and with that Ringo flipped them over.

__

His eyes had grown accustomed to the darkness now, and with the light peering in through the shutters he could make out George's flushed body under his. Hesitanly, he rested his hands on his shoulders, slowly lowering them on his torso, exploring his body at his own pace. George was looking at him, and Ringo saw so much love in his eyes that it made his heart flutter. I leaned down to kiss him, smiling.

__

“I’m never letting you out of this room,” he said.

__

“Good,” was the answer he got. “Because I lost the key.”

__

**Author's Note:**

> And George had really lost the keys, but they didn't care at all :P
> 
> I hope there weren't too many mistakes.


End file.
